


Take It

by SolarPoweredFlashlight



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora and Catra are both switches, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blindfolds, Bondage, Consensual Kink, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, but in this one Catra is the one topping, loving kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarPoweredFlashlight/pseuds/SolarPoweredFlashlight
Summary: Catra and Adora decide to order a rather challenging toy to try out together; Adora takes it like a champ, and Catra provides praise and encouragement along the way.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 537





	Take It

They order the dildo online from a specialty retailer.

Adora isn’t even really sure it counts as a dildo.

“It’s like a work of art,” she says, her hand encasing the mouse and Catra encasing her shoulders, wrapped around her and peering over her at the screen. Her girlfriend’s breath is hot on her neck, the staccato burst of her desire brushing the shell of Adora’s ear and the skin of her throat. Urgency and anticipation coils somewhere below her stomach as she rakes her eyes over the photos of the different sizes. “Do you really think a medium will… be usable?”

She doesn’t say _fit._

Catra strokes her fingertips from Adora’s chin down to her breastbone, greedy and possessive in _exactly_ the way she knows Adora loves. 

Goosebumps follow the touch like fire following a trail of gasoline. 

“We’ve got that other one of theirs in small. I think we can work you up to it.” 

It seems like an innocuous statement. Maybe? Is that a thing you can say innocuously? Catra certainly murmurs it like it’s a totally normal remark, like she’s suggesting they get more eggs next time they get groceries. 

It’s almost _because_ of Catra’s idle nonchalance that the words fill Adora with throbbing hunger, weaken her knees and dry her throat. 

Oh, and Catra _knows._

She pays attention.

“You’d like that,” Catra whispers against her ear, her lips grazing sensitive cartilage, “wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Adora breathes, sinking down into her body, feeling her limbs become thousands of pounds each, rooting her to the computer chair. Her core has become a molten, high-pressure furnace. All she wants is for Catra to shovel more coals into it. 

Her eyes linger on the product image.

_Medium._

It’s fucking huge.

All she _wants_ is for Catra to _shove -_

“What do you say, hm?” Catra purrs.

Adora swallows, reeling. 

“Yes ma’am,” she manages to gasp out. 

“Good,” Catra murmurs against her, slipping a hand up the bottom of her shirt. It is becoming difficult to breathe. “Be a good girl and place the order.”

Adora never anticipated clicking “add to cart” could make her so fucking wet. 

* * *

The text message she gets from Catra a few weeks later is just a photo of a box on their coffee table, and the caption _“its here”._

Adora spends the rest of the work day in a daze.

“You home?” She calls as she steps into their apartment, even though she knows the answer. In lieu of a response, Catra appears in the doorway of their bedroom, smirking. Her eyes cut through Adora’s tiny veneer of normalcy like a hot poker through tissue paper. Adora no longer has the willpower to pretend her mind isn’t completely fixated on the package. “Did you open it?” 

“Yep,” Catra says, reacting visibly to the breathless way Adora asks the question; she gets more smug, she straightens up, the tension around her eyes softens with the total confidence of knowing she’s in control. Adora feels her own body respond in kind to the sight, a kind of wild and reckless perpetual motion where her obvious switch into bottom mode brings out Catra’s grinning, growling top mode, and then that just pushes Adora harder into eager submission, which just _encourages_ Catra, and - 

“Hey,” Catra says, interrupting Adora’s wonderful spiral down, down, down into that place where she doesn’t know how to use words, doesn’t _need_ to know how. “Before we get too deep into anything - “ she’s smiling, and the love of her expression isn’t at all undercut by the fact that she isn’t holding back on the self-assured command of her tone - “You want to try to take it tonight? We can always try it some other time, it doesn’t have to be right away. It’s kind of a special occasion toy, so I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to attempt it right the fuck now, you know?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it pretty much nonstop for the last two weeks,” Adora confesses, finally remembering to take off her shoes, hang up her jacket. She can’t seem to stop, though. She takes off her shirt next, pushes her socks off her feet with her toes. 

“You’re so horny,” Catra says, with a surprised laugh and an underlying purr like the rumble of a motorcycle. “Come here.” 

Adora stops undressing in the middle of the apartment, allows herself to be tugged across the room to meet Catra in the entrance to the bedroom. Catra pushes her hard against the frame, slots a leg between hers, seizes her wrists and kisses her with the glorious, unhinged violence of an eruption, a supernova, a fucking high speed crash on a race course. Adora gasps, whimpers, laughs. 

“Guess I’m not the only one who’s horny,” she manages to say between kisses, grinning her best _I could switch if I wanted to_ grin at Catra. 

“Well, and why shouldn’t I be?” Catra growl-smirk-threaten-murmurs against her, as sharp and smooth and smoky and intoxicating as a sip of good scotch. Her lips against Adora’s neck say _princess, you couldn’t switch right now if I ordered you to and we both know it._ It makes Adora wet, a shamelessly visceral response to being seen through so effortlessly. “I’m about to bury a twelve inch long, two and a half inch thick cock so deep inside of you that you won’t even remember your own name.”

“Fffuck.” Adora’s clit throbs in response at the same time that the _rest_ of her clenches. Catra’s hands slide up her back and she shudders. Catra leans in close, pushes Adora’s face sideways with a demanding nudge of her brow against Adora’s jaw. Adora yields happily, sinking deeper into her submission with each eager, willing surrender. 

“You’re going to be a good girl for me tonight, aren’t you, princess?” Catra asks, her voice another rich golden mouthful of pure pleasure, another blissful swallow that builds the buzz inside of Adora’s body. 

“Yes ma’am,” Adora gasps, already dizzy with desire. 

“Good,” Catra says, and the word is _heady._ “Your first job is to wash our new toy. Go start the water running in the bathroom sink. We want it to be nice and hot.” 

Adora whimpers and nods as Catra pulls away. Her eyes flick to where Catra heads - she can see the box open on their bed, tissue paper and a packing slip scattered recklessly over their covers, but she can’t see the toy. Catra pauses, casts Adora a _look_ over her shoulder, and that makes her scamper obediently to the bathroom to get the water running. 

After a few moments of standing at the sink holding her hands under the water, looking at her reflection and trying to slow her breathing and her heart rate, Adora can see Catra emerging from the bedroom out of her peripherals. Already inundated with the warm, fuzzy need to be as good of a girl as possible, Adora doesn’t move from the sink, doesn’t turn her head to see what Catra is bringing her.

Catra comes up behind her and presses their bodies together and Adora’s breath catches in her throat in a single needy _sob_ when Catra grinds an enormous bulge against her ass. Catra’s arms come around her torso, one holding her waist _hard,_ pinning Adora against her and the insistent press of that gigantic cock, the other hand cupping a breast indulgently through her sports bra. 

“Oh my god, it’s huge,” Adora gasps as Catra rocks her hips. Strained denim holds the toy firmly in place between Catra’s thighs, giving her the freedom to whisper a white-hot chuckle against Adora’s shoulder blades as she grinds against her, keeping her trapped in place. “Fuck.”

“And it’s going inside you,” Catra growls. “You feel how hard you make me?” Adora’s next whimper is embarrassingly high and desperate; in the mirror she watches Catra bite her own lower lip, eyes half lidded, and then dig another deep, demanding stroke of the toy against Adora’s ass. “You’re going to be a good girl and take responsibility for the effect you have on me, aren’t you, princess?” 

Adora gives a shuddering gasp at the delicious violation of Catra’s insistence. Catra knows where the lines are, knows the kind of dirty talk that turns Adora on, and this kind of presumptuous demand is right up there at the top. Her brain is already most of the way to being rendered into mush just from this pre-foreplay warmup. 

“Yes,” Adora says, giving another piece of herself to Catra, trusting her with each careful stripping of inhibitions. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good girl,” Catra purrs; Adora shuts her eyes and whines, enjoying the simple pleasure of those words, of the firm embrace of Catra’s arms and the promise of her domination. Warmth blossoms inside of her in harmony with the pulsing arousal. She wants to be good. It feels wonderful to know she’s being good. 

Catra pulls away, and Adora takes the opportunity to open her eyes. Her reflection is a shuddering, heavily-breathing mess; she’s gripping the sides of the sink with both hands. The water is still running. 

Behind her, she hears Catra unbuckling her pants; the jangle of the belt buckle alone sends another spike of anticipation right to Adora’s clit. She watches Catra’s elbows move in the mirror, but her own body is blocking the view of anything more; she doesn’t dare turn around for a look. She is a _good girl_ and she will stay put until she’s given an order that tells her to do otherwise. 

Catra presses back against her, this time with no unexpected additions, and then slips the toy into Adora’s hands. The first thing Adora notices is that it’s warm from Catra’s body heat; the second thing she notices is that it’s beautiful; the third thing she notices is that it’s fucking _huge._

“Soap and hot water,” Catra reminds her smugly, like Adora hasn’t washed sex toys in this sink several dozen times before. “Be thorough. I want to see you really work it with your hands.” This makes Adora choke on another needy little noise. 

“Yes ma’am,” she manages to say around a heavy swallow, and then she’s lathering up her hands and stroking them sumptuously up and down the toy in a state of dazed elation. The toy isn’t anything like a human cock - it’s textured and elegant and has swooping curves and strategic patches of rippled ridges, and it’s a shimmering, stunning oil-patch-rainbow, abalone-shell kind of blend of colour that the website listed as Opalescent and frankly is much prettier in person than she expected it to be. It squishes just a little against her grip as she washes it and tries not to get overwhelmed with the way she has to stretch her fingers around its girth; the fact that it has a little bit of give to it is reassuring, but her heart is still doing an olympic routine inside of her chest. 

“What kind of noises do you think you’ll make,” Catra muses, undoing the button of Adora’s jeans while still keeping their bodies pressed together, “when I’m all the way inside of you with that thing, hm?” Adora does her best to concentrate even as her body pulses with hunger, each pump of blood screaming _take me, take me, take me, I’m yours, I’m yours, anything you want, let me be good, let me be good for you._ Catra crouches behind her to push her pants down to her ankles; Adora can barely hold onto her sanity firmly enough to keep steadily washing the toy when Catra presses a smoky kiss to the back of Adora’s thigh. Catra kisses again, higher, higher, and then her teeth are dragging and lips are sliding against the fabric of Adora’s boxer briefs. Adora keens throatily, has to stop her cleaning for a moment just to remind her legs that they need to keep her standing even as the automatic, immediate surrender rushes through her limbs. “I can smell how much you want it,” Catra says, between Adora’s legs from the bathroom floor, and there’s no room left in Adora’s mind for shame - she _whimpers,_ and pours as much begging desperation into the noise as she can. Catra chuckles. “Poor thing. You just want to get to the bedroom, don’t you?” 

Adora nods, but realizes Catra can’t see it from where she is. She has to clear her throat a couple of times before she can actually answer. 

“Please. Please,” is as much as she has the brainpower to say. 

Catra laughs; the sound is divine, it is sinful, it is creation and destruction and complete, total mastery of all. 

“Rinse it thoroughly,” she commands, and Adora jumps to obey, relieved to have a new order she can direct her attention to. Catra rises to her feet like a goddess stepping out of the foam of the ocean, strokes Adora’s hip, and purrs: _“Good girl.”_ Adora shudders, drinking deep of the luxury of the praise. Somehow, she manages to get the toy totally rinsed off and the tap turned off. “Good. Give it here.” She hands it over; it’s fucking _heavy._ Twelve solid inches of top quality silicone is a hefty bundle. 

Catra takes her to the bedroom, sets the toy to wait threateningly on the bedside, strips her bare, presses her into the bed. Even as Catra has her pinned to the mattress, kissing her ferociously and pumping two fingers inside of her and murmuring _good girl, Adora,_ her eyes keep wandering over to that toy sitting ominously just a few feet from her head. Sensing Adora’s distraction - from her body language? from the sound of her gasps and whines? she isn’t sure - Catra pulls out and kisses her tenderly and immediately identifies the cause. 

“Be patient,” Catra chuckles, then catches one of Adora’s nipples in her hot mouth. She sucks, bites, fondles with her tongue, and Adora only bucks and shudders all the more because she knows Catra is doing it for her own animalistic pleasure, not because it’s part of some master plan to make Adora more horny, and the knowledge that Catra is _using_ her, is _taking_ what she wants, just makes it that much _hotter._ When Catra’s had her fill she opens the drawer of the bedside table and rummages around until she finds the blindfold. She makes eye contact and raises her eyebrows, asking if it’s an acceptable addition; Adora nods with rapid, wanton approval of the proposal. 

Catra secures the blindfold and then decides to buckle Adora into a set of wrist cuffs too for good measure. It’s all just more pleasure layered on top of pleasure, for Adora; there’s nothing better than letting Catra have control, letting her decide the cadence and pace of the evening, letting her sharpen or soften their play as her brilliant, attentive mind sees fit to craft the best possible experience for Adora. Not knowing what’s coming next but trusting that it will be _good_ is Adora’s favourite. There isn’t a single situation elsewhere in Adora’s life where she likes surprises, likes the reeling, untethered freefall of knowing she doesn’t have control. With Catra in charge, that feeling is a source of _rush,_ not of terror. She trusts her. Catra would never hurt her. 

Well. Except in the fun way. 

“Oh, _princess,”_ she hears Catra say, the words licking up her naked body like slithering silk ribbons, “You’re so beautiful when you’re all mine.”

Adora makes a noise of flustered, bashful surprise at the caress of that praise, rocks her hips against open air. She can’t see what Catra is doing, but she can feel where her weight is against the mattress, so she knows Catra is still up at the top of the bed. 

“Wrists up above your head,” Catra commands, and then, when Adora obeys - “Good girl.” Adora sighs happily, smiles a soft, dopey grin in spite of the taut, intense sexuality of the moment. She jerks in surprise when Catra kisses her nose, then just smiles wider. “You’re cute,” Catra murmurs, clipping her wrist cuffs together and then securing them to the O-ring they keep hidden at the head of the bed on the end of a short, easily tucked away length of rope.

“M’yours,” Adora answers softly, grinning and _very_ much in her happy place with her vision taken away from her and her hands immobilized.

“You _are_ mine,” Catra confirms, her voice turning briefly to a rich, sweet tenderness that makes Adora think briefly of nutmeg and brown sugar and makes her chest feel like it’s full of light. She smiles brightly into the comfortable darkness and giggles when the next thing she feels is Catra’s lips peppering her face with tiny, fluttering kisses. She squirms and smiles and only sort of tries to turn her face away, enjoying the nearness of Catra’s face and her echoing throaty chuckle. “My good girl,” Catra says, when she’s finished with this wonderful interlude, and Adora sighs blissfully and melts back into the pillow, still wearing the smile. “Ready to keep going?”

“Mhm,” she answers, feeling like she’s floating. The insistent throbbing and wetness between her thighs hasn’t left - it’s just been biding its time. 

She feels Catra adjust her weight a little, hears her take something out of the drawer. Then she’s moving down the bed, settling between Adora’s legs. A noise - the cap of their lube container flicking open. Adora whimpers automatically at the recognizable sound. 

“Know what that is, don’t you princess?” Catra murmurs. Adora can _hear_ the smirk. “Don’t get greedy. I told you we’d work you up to the big one.” The slick, slippery sound of a hand applying lube to a toy is unmistakable. Adora jumps a little in surprise when she feels the tip of it touch her entrance; Catra strokes the entire thing against her, and she thinks dimly that this must be one of their smaller, regular toys instead of the monstrous new one. “You are _so_ wet for me already. Such a good girl.” She swallows, trying to be good and stay still as Catra rubs the length of the toy up and down against her clit, but she knows her body is trembling. “How easily do you think this whole thing is going to go in, hm, with how wet you are?” There is a threat - a wonderful, violent, just-the-right-amount-of-rough threat - in the lilt of this question. Adora answers it with a shaky moan. “I think you can take this one all the way in,” Catra whispers, sinister and smirking and ah, fuck - 

_“Fuck!”_ Adora yells as the head presses against her and then it’s _in_ and then _still going in_ and then a slight pinch, slight friction, the _perfect_ amount of pain gilding the incredible arousal of Catra just fucking _taking her_ in one ruthless thrust. She’s warmed up enough from Catra’s fingers that the toy is in her right to the hilt with hardly any resistance, and then her brain is filled with white noise and Catra is fucking her, fucking her, pulling the entire thing almost all the way out before driving it back into her, just a _little_ too slowly to push Adora all the way over the edge, and oh, fuck - 

“Good girl.”

“Fuck,” Adora gasps, “fuck!” 

“Such a very good girl.”

“F- ! Hu! Fuck!” 

Catra isn’t gentle with her, and it feels incredible. The psychology of it more than the physical sensations threaten to bring Adora to orgasm, she’s so goddamn turned on by Catra conquering her ruthlessly, all while murmuring _good girl_ again and again and - 

And then the toy slips free, _gone_ and _out_ instead of just pulling back for another deep thrust, and Adora’s whole body seems to burn in time with the pulse of the need that Catra has built her up to and then refused to let her purge. 

Catra’s weight shifts, and then the lube bottle cap clicks open again.

Adora whimpers, lifting her hips right up off the mattress in wordless response, eager and terrified and so, so, so filled to the brim with anticipation that if she had half of a mind left she’d be thoroughly insane. 

“You’re so eager for me,” Catra chuckles, one strong hand pushing Adora back against the mattress with a palm to her hip. It settles her a little, to have Catra manhandle her into position. She knows where she belongs as long as Catra puts her there, and that’s a sweet kind of relief in and of itself. She feels herself shaking as she listens to the sloppy sound of Catra lubing the new toy. “Shh,” Catra commands, “Relax. I need you to surrender. Let go. Just exist, princess. I’ve got you.” 

Adora allows herself to lie back and submerge herself in Catra’s care, slipping below the surface and letting her lungs take in great, comforting gasps of her lover’s confidence and oversight and control. She’s safe. She’s Catra’s. 

“Good girl,” Catra says, and the words take even more tension out of Adora’s body even as they tug a fresh whimper from her lips. She feels Catra shuffle closer, then hands take her ankles - one of Catra’s hands is very, very slippery - and push her legs up and back so that they’re resting on Catra’s shoulders, and Adora is so open, so exposed, so vulnerable. “Good girl,” Catra says again, and then Adora _feels_ it, the tip of that gigantic toy pressing against her.

“Oh, fuck,” she groans, as Catra begins to apply pressure and the toy starts to demand entry. With the blindfold on and all her senses ratcheted to eleven, Adora feels like Catra’s got a fucking baseball pressed against her, it seems so goddamn huge. There’s no way, there’s no _way_ that thing is going to fit inside of her. 

“Don’t you fight me,” Catra murmurs smugly, and the insistent push of the toy changes to a steady, shallow pulsing. The pad of a thumb slips against Adora’s clit and she gasps her surprise and so does her body, because _holy fuck_ the toy slips in just a little, and - “Good girl. What a good girl. There you go. Take it for me. Take it.” 

Adora whimpers deep in her throat, swimming in Catra’s praise, all thought obliterated by the incredible stretch, the demand, the enormous pressure and presence pushing into her. Catra would put a halt to things in a heartbeat if Adora asked her to, but the fantasy that this is an unavoidable, inescapable fate is so fucking unbearably hot that the edge of pain that accompanies the steady, pulsing push of the toy inside of her only serves to make her more urgently wet, more desperately and mindlessly aroused.

“There you go, princess,” Catra murmurs, as the toy gains ground, crawling ever onwards, stretching more and more even as Adora thinks _I can’t_ and _it isn’t possible_ and _it won’t fit_ and then allows herself to become all the more blisteringly turned on that this is happening in spite of all that. “Good girl,” Catra purrs, still rubbing her clit in time with the short pulses of the toy. Adora groans and arches her back as it starts to feel particularly good-hurts-intense-incredible-perfect and clenches down on it involuntarily. 

“There’s my sweet princess,” Catra says. “You’re doing so well. Now relax. Surrender to me. Take it for me.” Adora obeys, because there is nothing, nothing in this world anymore but Catra’s voice and the way Catra is working this toy inside of her and Adora’s need to _obey._ She unclenches, relaxes back into the mattress, and then cries out as the toy slips in several inches all at once. “Good girl,” Catra praises with extra vehemence.

The feeling is beyond intense. It’s beyond incredible. It’s so much. It’s everything. It hurts so, so wonderfully. Catra’s voice becomes her only connection to reality beyond the sensation of the rocking thrusts and slow, unceasing pressure.

  
  
  


"Come on, princess, I know you can take it - show me what a good girl you are, now - you're almost there - I know you're going to be good for me and take it all.” Adora knows she’s making sounds. Each little pulse that pushes the toy deeper seems to send another senseless whine spilling from her lips, one after the other after the other like she’s just a fountain of soft, helpless animal noises.

"It hurts, doesn't it, princess? Yeah? Yeah. That's what I thought.” Catra’s thumb on her clit is just as ruthless as the steady, demanding push of the toy deeper and deeper inside of her. “What a sweet little whimper you have. You know that's how I know how very good you're being - taking it for me even though it hurts - “ 

Adora gasps loudly at this, at the intense erotic vulnerability of Catra seeing through to her basest of motivations, at the purity and simplicity of her desire to please Catra. 

” - you like to be good, don't you - I know you do, princess - I know you like it - I know you like the way it hurts, know you like to show me how you'll take it for me anyways.” Oh god, she’s so _full,_ there can’t possibly be more, can there? She’s never felt _anything_ like this before, it’s so _much,_ everything feels _so fucking much_ and she’s gasping, swearing, keening - “That's it. Fuck, sweetheart, you're so wet. So wet and so good for me. Take it,” Catra commands, and then with growling, demanding ferocity: _“Take it.”_ All at once, she feels the toy slide in the rest of the way, the base flush against her labia, and her whole body is shaking, shaking, shaking as she clenches down and she’s so full and it’s so _much_ and it feels so _incredible_ and - “Good,” Catra praises, directing the wild intensity of Adora’s pleasure with the single word like a hand on a horse’s bridle, like there’s no way so light of a touch should be able to control a thousand pound wild animal but against all logic Catra is, undeniably, the one in control, and - “Good girl. _Good_ \- you did it - you did it, that's the whole thing - “ Adora releases a gutteral cry as the reality hits home, as the stretch becomes more comfortable and pain makes way entirely to pleasure, “ - how does it feel, hm - aren't you so sweet, so obedient - fuck you sound so good. You're so full, aren't you? So full, and so wet.”

Adora’s shaking and bucking slows as her body adjusts to the toy; it’s made easier by the fact that Catra has, at some point, stopped rubbing her clit, so the sensations aren’t quite so overwhelming. She feels Catra place a kiss against her inner thigh, and then:

“Be a good girl, now.” Catra’s voice is raspy, smug, boiling over with lust. Adora will do anything, anything, to earn another drop of praise. She’ll be good. She’ll be good. “I'm going to fuck you with it now." The dark, smirking words of warning bring another wordless cry of anticipation to Adora’s lips, and then the toy starts to slide back out and rock back in, and the first thrust alone has her seeing stars, straining at her wrist restraints, gasping in whole-body shock. Catra slows, stills. “You okay?” 

Adora makes a keening sound in her throat she hopes is roughly shaped like _mhm_ and nods rapidly. 

“Is it too much?”

Her frantic nodding changes to frantic back and forth shaking. It’s so much. It’s so fucking much. But it isn’t too much. She can take it. She _wants_ to take it. The enormity of the challenge and the touch of pain just makes that furnace inside of her burn hotter. 

“Good girl. You tell me if you need to stop.”

She whimpers - she lives for those words and only those words. _Good girl._

The toy inside of her moves again, and the world falls away. As the thrusts pick up, she feels like she’s being blasted entirely out of her body, like she’s flying, like she’s somewhere among the stars and being lifted higher and higher with each increasingly flustered gasp of _good girl, princess_ and _that’s it_ and _take it for me!_

It’s so fucking much.

It doesn’t take long before the shaking starts again, and then everything is white hot and so much and she thinks maybe she’s inside of a jet engine or maybe she’s breaking the sound barrier or maybe she’s dropping seven thousand feet and she’s gripping for something to hold onto and - 

And there’s Catra, holding her as she jerks and trembles and twitches and ah, ah, _fuck_ the toy is sliding out of her and the _aftershocks_ and - fuck, fuck, fuck - 

The warmth of Catra wraps around her. She is dimly aware of the sound of a buckles coming undone, and then her wrists are free and Catra’s fingers are massaging her forearms and her palms and she curls into a tight ball and holds Catra’s hands tight against her heart and - 

“Good girl,” Catra is saying, “You’re such a good girl. You did so incredibly well. You’re so, so good for me. You make me so happy. You did such a good job.” Adora whimpers softly, vulnerable and needy and unfiltered, with each affirmation. Catra knows her well enough to leave the blindfold on for now - the sudden addition of sight will just dazzle and disorient her in this state - and just holds her, kisses her back, tells her over and over how good she is. 

Slowly, slowly, her breathing comes down and settles into big, steady breaths. She’s thoroughly spent, but the drumbeat throbbing between her legs won’t quite go away - a reminder of just how much she’s pushed her body to endure, and _oh,_ what a wonderful souvenir it is. 

Catra always seems to know somehow when Adora’s mind returns, and as soon as the ability to process anything more complicated than _I’m here_ and _good girl_ is back within her sights, Catra says:

“Guess you liked it, huh?”

“Uhuh,” Adora mutters affirmatively, grinning into her pillow and feeling a blush forming on her cheeks. She pushes the blindfold up but keeps her face buried in the pillow for a while to give herself a more gentle transition back out of the comforting darkness. Behind her, Catra chuckles and presses a little kiss to her shoulder. “I - “ she has to swallow and clear her throat before she can croak the rest of the words out. “I think you’re right about… this toy being a uh. Special occasion kind of toy.”

“That’s what I figured,” Catra says smugly. She kisses Adora’s cheek and Adora turns her face to demand a proper kiss; Catra smiles down at her and obliges happily. “You’re okay for a second here if I go get you a glass of water?”

“Yeah,” Adora says, a smile blossoming on her face. “I love you. So much.” This makes Catra linger so that she can kiss Adora several more times before climbing out of the bed.

“I love you too,” she says, and then clambers over Adora to get to the floor. From her very cozy, post-orgasmic nest of pillows and blankets, Adora aims and manages to score a mischievous little smack on Catra’s naked ass as it goes by. Catra yelps and laughs. “This is the thanks I get, huh,” she grouses, but her smile hasn’t gone anywhere, and she winks at Adora before she slips into the bathroom to fill a glass with water. 

Adora watches her go with a grin, thinking about the ache in her core and wondering if she’ll feel it all day tomorrow at work and kind of hoping that she does. 

She definitely needs a shower before they sleep. She feels sticky, sore, sweaty, and - 

Catra appears in the doorway to the bedroom carrying a glass of water and wearing a smile. 

“Hey,” she says, softer than anything Adora’s ever heard in her life, “Sit up for me and drink this?” Adora’s heart sings with wonder; she shuffles back up, wondering how Catra can tell that she still really just wants Catra to stay in charge a little while longer? She takes the glass and drinks, and when Catra smiles at her and says _good girl_ when she finishes the whole thing, the throbbing feeling between her legs is instantly overtaken by the warm, secure rush that fills up her chest. 

“I love you,” Adora says again, feeling like this is the absolute most important thing in the world to ensure Catra understands. Catra takes the empty glass from her; she kisses Adora’s eyebrows and the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones; she places the glass on the bedside table, and crawls back into bed. 

“I love _you,”_ Catra finally says, and holds open her arms. “Come here, princess. You obviously need to be cuddled a bit more.” She’s smirking, using her top voice, but there’s infinite tenderness in the command.

Adora drapes herself over Catra’s chest, letting her body go totally limp when Catra’s fingers start to card through her hair. Everything settles into place like a great blissful sigh with one final invocation of her favourite words:

“There’s my good girl.”


End file.
